


Still Hajime

by EliteDelieght



Series: Drowning in Despair [2]
Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Gen, descriptions of dead bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3916957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliteDelieght/pseuds/EliteDelieght
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From an au where Hinata and Izuru are twin brothers. Hajime falls into despair and drags his brother down with him.</p>
<p>Izuru tries to warn his parents of the impending apocalypse- but when he returns home, a horrifying surprise awaits him.<br/>[sequel to Living With Himself, but can be read as a stand-alone.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Hajime

**Author's Note:**

> You don't really have to read the first one I wrote- it's just Izuru killing the student council and the immediate aftermath. This is set a few weeks later, right before the Single Most Despair Inducing Event in the History of Mankind goes off.

The night is dark and cold.

The streetlights flicker as Izuru hurries down the sidewalk, feet clicking against concrete. The roar of the ocean fades into the background- a noise he was once comforted by in his childhood. Now it only serves to worsen his paranoia. He can't hear pursuers over the crash of the waves against sand.

a simple mugging would never be successful, of course. He's armed to the teeth these days, and more than capable of dispatching untrained imbeciles who think him an easy mark. No, it's not petty criminals that cause him to hasten forward.

His destination is visible, quite suddenly, and Izuru releases a breath in his relief. He nearly sprints to the front door. It's late, and he'll most likely have to rouse his parents from sleep. But that is no matter. Unrest is growing in the streets of Japan. Riots have already broken out in Tokyo and Shibuya. He can practically feel That Person breathing down his neck even now. Her laughter echoes in his ears and a shudder runs down his spine. He has to warn them.

His parents can still escape- still be free from the chaos. The despair. He'll have to tell them everything, of course. The secret meetings, the reserve course riots. He'll tell them of Her influence. What She's done. What Hajime has done.

He thinks of dead bodies and broken desks- blood on the walls, on his hands, smeared across Hajime's face as he holds him close because he makes him feel _safe_. Hajime is a safe zone. He has always been the safe zone.

Izuru shudders again, and it has nothing to do with the cold. He will have to tell them of what he's done as well.

He pulls his keys from his pocket, but the door is already unlocked. He freezes. Something is constricting his chest, his throat. Pressing down with enough force to keep him from entering his home. If he doesn't enter then nothing is wrong. His mother had only forgotten to lock the door before bed. His stepfather had gone for an evening stroll and had yet to return, or hadn't thought to secure the house yet.

Red eyes fasten onto the brass knob, which seems to stare back balefully. He brushes off such silly thoughts and enters without further ado.

The front hall is empty and dark, which is not a surprise considering how late it is. The only noise is the steady tick-tick-tick of the clock. Izuru had always hated that clock. So loud and annoying. The annoying noise, of course, is the only reason he rushes into the kitchen.

There's a kettle on the stove, but it's cold to the touch. The cups on the counter are empty. The stairwell is dark as well, when he glances through the next doorway. Something tells him to go upstairs. To go to his room and go to sleep. To forget his worries and to REST. He hasn't slept in days, and it's all too obvious from the bags under his eyes.

It's the smell that draws him into the living room. Sickly sweet and metallic, and far too familiar.

He can't see the bodies at first. The couch is in the way, and Hajime is standing in front of the window. Moonlight streams in around his face, and he smiles at Izuru. It's a nervous smile. Like nothing has changed. Like he was going to ask why he was out so late because _geez_ , Izuru, it's the middle of the night!

But his smile is too wide, his eyes too empty. The room stinks of rot.

Izuru steps closer and Hajime sits on the window seat. It looks out on the front yard, and the street beyond that. It had always been Izuru's favorite place to sit, until he grew bored and moved on to some other activity. His gaze is not drawn to his brother, however, but to his parents.

Hina is laying on the floor, her blank gaze directed upwards towards the ceiling. Blood pools beneath her, and Izuru thinks, rather hysterically, that it looks almost black, here in the dark. She's fully dressed and he wonders how long she's been laying on the floor like this.

Jun is only a few feet away, his hands reaching out desperately towards his wife. Trying to hold her even in death. His glasses are cracked, and his unseeing eyes stare out from behind the fractured lenses. His back is littered with stab wounds of varying severity. He had probably struggled more than Hina.

"What have you done?" He's surprised by his own voice. It's far too loud in the suffocating silence. Hajime doesn't even answer at first, leaving his brother to drown in his own thoughts.

He sinks to his knees, hardly noticing as the blood begins to soak into his pant legs. Hina seems to be watching him as he reaches for her. His hands are shaking as he gently pulls the corpse into his lap. She had called him the other day to chatter about how business was doing at the bakery, how Jun's new designs were coming, to ask about how Hajime was doing. He hadn't been able to answer her honestly.

"What have you _done_?" He repeats the words desperately, eyes searching Hajime's for an answer.

"I had to." He sounds as though he truly believes his own words.

"You _had to_?" There was something building inside of his chest. It is screaming, he thinks, but why? It's Hajime. It's only Hajime.

"Y-yes! Don't you.. Don't you understand what's coming?" He's standing, suddenly, and Izuru clutches their mother closer. As though he can protect what's left of her. Hajime looks half-crazed, but he's still smiling. "Don't you get it? C'mon, Izuru, you're so smart."

"Hajime..."

"I had to. I couldn't let them... get caught up in that." His voice tapers off, and for a moment he sounds like the brother that Izuru remembers. "You're here for the same reason, right? You came here to warn them. But... There's no escaping Her, Izuru. They wouldn't have been able to leave."

Izuru is already shaking his head. "You killed them."

"I had to." Hinata insists. The smile is gone, now, but Izuru can't bring himself to care. "What do you care, anyways? You have a-as much blood on your hands as I do."

The student council room flits across his memory again. Hajime had told Her to do it. Had told Her that his brother couldn't possibly die so easily. Hajime had set it up. But Izuru hadn't said anything hen he found out. He was still Hajime, after all. Still Hajime.

He steps closer- over Jun- and kneels down in the pool of blood. Steady hands move Hina from Izuru's lap and onto the floor. The reserve student brushes her hair from her face, closes her eyes. He looks gentle- loving.

Izuru watches with a lurching stomach. His hands support his weight as he leans back, moving to put distance between him and his brother. The rug squelches underneath his palms, and his fingers nudge against cold metal. His hand closes around a knife handle.

Hajime has moved on to Jun now, placing him closer to his wife. He fixes his glasses. The moonlight is striking against his face, throwing everything into colorless contrast. Or perhaps everything IS colorless. Has it all drained away? Has it all shifted into shades of boring, dismal grey? Charcoal, silver, gunmetal, jet, ash, slate, boring, boring, boring--

Izuru draws in a shuddering breath, but Hajime doesn't look up. It has to be Hajime, of course, because who else could it be? Some phantom parading about in his brother's skin? If he could cut him open he would be able to tell. He could sift through his organs, poke at his brain, search for the soul. Where would a soul be stored?

His mind is spinning a mile a minute, images of surgeries he's never performed dancing through his mind's eye. Izuru moves as though in a trance. The knife is raised above his head now, ready to strike down at Hajime's turned back. Major arteries there, there, and there. He would bleed out in five minutes- three if he struggles. Sooner still if you press a pillow to his face to smother him-

Hajime turns and regards Izuru with a strange sense of calm. It's almost as though he isn't preparing to kill him and rip him to pieces like some sort of animal. Almost like he's watching Izuru solve a particularly simple puzzle. There is no horror in his eyes, no dawning realization. There is only blank curiosity. It's similar to the expression Izuru himself wore more often than not, and perhaps that's why it's so jarring. He finds he cannot bring himself to strike.

Hajime turns around fully, reaching for the knife. His movements are slow and deliberate, as though he's giving Izuru time should he wish to continue. He doesn't move and soon the reserve student is prying the knife from stiff fingers. His free hand comes up to stroke Izuru's face, smearing blood across his skin.

"I'm sorry," he breaths. And oh how desperately Izuru wants to believe him. He can't, though, not when their parents are laying only a few feet away. Not when looking at Hajime makes him sick to his stomach. "I'm so sorry. B-but it's better this way, don't you see? This way we can remember them how they were. We do't have to see what they'll become."

Staring into Hajime's empty eyes, he almost agrees.

He pushes his brother away, face carefully composed. "I'll be taking my leave now." He intones.

"Wh-what? Where are you...?"

"Goodbye." Izuru moves to stand, privately wondering if his legs will give out beneath him. They do not, and he is grateful for exactly two seconds. Hajime's hand is encircling his wrist, now, and the iron grip is a direct contrast to the nerves showing in his expression.

"Where are you going?" He repeats, a desperate tone bleeding into his words.

"Let go of my hand." The words are blank. Bored.

Hajime gets to his feet "Izuru, y-you can't go."

"Let go of me." Neutral. Blank. Cold.

"Izuru-"

"Get off!" It's an exclamation, suddenly. A roar of anger. He wrenches his hand away and shoves Hinata back. His brother is stumbling over one of the corpses, but Izuru is already vaulting over the couch. He needs to get out. He needs to run- away from his dead parents and the dead student council and Her and Her despair and Hajime.

He hesitates for only a moment at the last thought, but a moment is long enough. His brother's fingers and tangled in a large chunk of his hair and suddenly he's being dragged backwards and to the floor. He lashes out on reflex, his fist making contact with Hinata's nose. The crack is nearly drowned out by Hinata's yelp, but the blood that gushes forth is all too noticeable in the moonlight. Disgust courses through Izuru- both towards himself and his brother.

The glint of the knife halts Izuru's halfhearted struggle, and then and enraged Hajime is hacking downwards.

"This is all your fault!" He's screaming. "All your fault! You had to be so PERFECT! So smart! Well who's better, now?! She likes me more! Not you- me!"

For a moment Izuru is sure he's gone into shock. The lack of pain is rather astonishing, considering how Hajime continues to bring the knife up and down and up and down and up, down, up, down...

It's only once he realizes that Hinata is hacking at his hair that he shoves him away again. The reserve student struggles against him, the knife still shearing through large chunks of thick hair. The brothers struggle and in the end the knife clatters to the floor as Izuru clutches at Hinata's wrist.

They're both gasping for air, chests heaving. Izuru's hair hangs in uneven clumps around his chin and shoulders- some single strands still tumbling in a tangle down his back. He resolves, instantly, not to react. He'll cut it evenly later. He won't even pause to stare at his reflection, he decides, because there are much more important things to be worried about. But the sudden lack of weight makes him feel lightheaded, and and stench of blood and Hajime's shaking frame beneath him do nothing to help.

"I'm sorry." He's gasping. Green eyes are wide, pupils dilated despite the dim light. His expression is nearly identical to the one he had worn weeks earlier, when the student council had been slaughtered. His words are not. "I-I'm... so sorry... Izuru, I-I didn't mean..."

He did mean it, though. He had wanted this. All of it. Izuru is still gasping for breath. His chest is tight and he's soaked in his parent's blood- and isn't that ironic? His hair is gone and everyone is dead. If they haven't fallen yet it was only a matter of time.

Hajime was dead.

This wasn't his brother. This shaking mess with wide eyes and blood-splattered skin. It wasn't Hajime. It _wasn't_.

So Izuru would kill him. This shell would die just as She would. Just as all those who had followed her would. He would make them feel the despair they coveted so intensely... They would pay.

He doesn't move as Hajime wraps his arms around him. No. Not yet. The time would come, but not now. So he only stares at his parents as Hinata whispers apologies.

_They would all pay._


End file.
